


Why Are We Here?

by tenlittlecock_bites



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alabama, M/M, micheoff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenlittlecock_bites/pseuds/tenlittlecock_bites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones fucking hates Alabama. He hates the heat, he hates the people, and he hates how boring it is. The only solace he finds is in his fake ID and an attractive, tattooed bartender/thrift store worker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Micheoff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Micheoff/gifts).



> This is probably the hardest I've ever worked on something I've written. I'm so proud of this, and it's only the first chapter. I have big plans for this fic, and I really hope you like it too.

Michael hated Alabama. Granted, Michael hated most of the places that the military relocated his family to, but Alabama was easily the shittiest place so far. They had moved in the middle of the summer, so the air outside was so humid that it felt like swimming through the air. There was nothing to do in the tiny ass town they lived in either, except it had a 24-hour Walmart. The nearest town that wasn't in the middle of buttfuck nowhere was a two hour drive away. Not to mention the extremely religious air that hung over the town as heavy as the humidity. Billboards proclaiming love for God and hatred of sinners lined the highway that snaked through town. There were more churches than there were people to fill them. You couldn't go anywhere at all without receiving at least three religious pamphlets trying to convince someone to "turn to God and away from sin".

Michael fucking _hated_ Alabama.

\- - -

Geoff had been trapped in Alabama his whole life. From birth to adulthood, and even now, living alone in his studio apartment down the street from the local bar (lovingly named "cock bites") he worked at on weekends, and a few short blocks away from the thrift store his day job was at.

If he had any means to move away, he would have. But it was hard enough paying rent each month as it was, and just when he had almost enough to get the hell out of dodge something ended up getting fucked up. Either something in his apartment broke, or he needed new clothes for work because the others were in major disrepair...

So here Geoff was. Another summer wasting away in fucking Alabama, working another boring Saturday night, business slow as per usual. The man sighed and rest his chin on his hand, wiping down the bar for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Hell, it probably was. But he had nothing better to do.

His eyes lifted as the door to the building opened, letting in some of the still stifling hot air from outside. The entrance of an attractive, curly haired man caught Geoff's interest instantly.

The younger man plopped himself down onto a barstool, huffing and pushing the curls that had stuck to his forehead back, only to have them fall forward again.

"Hey buddy, you look like you need a drink."

The young man laughed bitterly, nodding, "Hell yeah I do."

Geoff nodded and examined the stranger closely before holding out his hand, "ID?" He waited for him to pull his wallet out and hand him the card before looking it over, "Aiden Price? Interesting name." Geoff commented before verifying the birthdate on the card, handing it back.

"Really?" He asked, seeming offput by the question, his shoulders tensing.

Geoff was about to comment on the odd behavior, but thought better of it. Hell, he probably just didn't like his name. Whatever. "What'll ya have?" He asked instead, grabbing a glass.

The younger man's shoulders relaxed noticeably at that, the hints of a smile forming on his lips, "Jack and Coke."

Geoff nodded, grabbing what he needed to make the beverage, "So what's on your mind, kid?" He asked.

'Aiden' held up a hand, shaking his head in protest, "Hey, I don't need bartender therapy, ok. I may look like total shit, but it's just the stupid fucking heat."

"First summer in Alabama?"

"That easy to figure out huh?"

"You live here your whole life, Aiden, and you learn how to pick out the newbies." Geoff teased with an easy grin, setting the drink down on the bar counter.

"You've seriously lived your whole life here?" Aiden asked incredulously, "Fuck dude, _I_ should be making _you_ a drink." The sympathetic look on his face almost made Geoff laugh.

"I think that's against company policy, but maybe I'll let you buy me a whiskey later."

"Count on it."

\- - -

Throughout his shift, Geoff spent an incredible amount of time talking to Michael (who he knew only as Aiden), conversation ranging from anything and shifting seamlessly from topic to topic, from talking shit on Alabama to video games and even a heated debate on which song in the old jukebox in the bar was _easily_ the worst. As the bar started to get more crowded, Geoff was forced to stop conversing and actually make drinks for the people who had shown up, only able to pause to talk to Michael whenever the younger man needed a refill on his own drink.

During a particularly busy crowd (some girl's 21st birthday Geoff had to keep bringing a plethora of drinks to), Geoff finally returned to the bar, only to not see Michael sitting at the counter. He tried not to feel too disappointed, even though he had been having the most interesting conversation he'd had with anyone since Ryan left town.

He began cleaning glasses, only looking up as what Michael had claimed to be the best song in the jukebox started playing, catching the drunk-glazed eyes of the curly haired man, an easy grin on his face. He had joined the party of people while Geoff had been busy, and now he was clearly going to attempt dancing with them.

Geoff was expecting the drunken man to be clumsy and awkward at best, judging by the amounts of alcohol he had consumed, but he was dead wrong. The way Michael moved was.. indescribable, and Geoff found he was having a very difficult time focusing on bartending when all he wanted to do was stare at the younger man because holy shit could he move his hips.

Just when Geoff thought he couldn't handle seeing Michael move like that anymore, he stopped, stumbling towards the bar and leaning over to shove a twenty dollar bill into Geoff's shirt pocket, "For your drink." He slurred with a grin, his hand lingering on the older man's chest before turning to leave.

"You're not driving are you?" Geoff asked, shoving the bill into his pocket.

"Nah. I ca' walk."

Geoff shook his head and sighed before saying, "Do you know your way home?"

Michael's face scrunched up in concentration before he shakes his head, but slurs, "I have a _great_ sense-a' direction."

"Ok, no, you're going to stay here until I can give you a ride home." Geoff said firmly, reaching over the bar and pressing on the younger man's shoulders until he sat down, giving him a glass of water.

\- - -

After Geoff finally was able to close the bar, he found Michael sitting in one of the booths, a beer in front of him, the younger man watching him closely.

"I just have to wipe down the bar, then we can go." Geoff promised, and Michael nodded, finishing off his beer. "You're gonna have a hell of a hangover, kid."

Michael shook his head at that, grinning sloppily, "Nah. I don' get 'em."

Geoff scoffed and shook his head, "Alright, buddy, whatever you say." He said before turning and returning to the bar, cleaning glasses before turning to wipe down the bar, stopping mid-wipe at the feeling of hands on his legs. When he looked down, he was greeted by the sight of Michael on his knees, eyes glassed over from his drunken state, an easy grin on his face.

"H-Hey, what are you doing?" Geoff asked, voice cracking and causing Michael to laugh before shrugging.

"Thanking you for the ride." He joked, his hands going to Geoff's belt, the older man quickly grabbing his wrists.

"Woah woah, slow down for a second. You're drunk."

"So?"

"So you're actually considering giving me a blow job behind the bar because your inhibitions are fucked."

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling his wrists free from Geoff's grip, "I'm not too drunk to know you're fucking hot, Geoff." Admittedly, the sound of Michael's voice just saying his name had Geoff's heart skipping a beat.

"Aiden..." He started weakly as Michael began working at getting his belt undone.

"Geoff, do me a favor and shut the fuck up." Michael replied, any reply Geoff was going to make getting cut off by a choked off groan as Michael's palm began to slowly massage at his groin.

Once Geoff stopped protesting, with continual urging from Michael that he was in no way _taking advantage of him_ , Michael was yanking down the older man's pants and boxers, humming in approval at what his eyes were met with. "I didn't take you to be a dick piercing kind of guy." He remarks before teasing at the metal ring with his tongue.

Any smart ass remark Geoff would have made in return was cut off by a low groan, one of his hands bracing against the bar, the other reaching down to fist into Michael's curls as the younger man took him into his mouth. "Fuck, Aiden."

Michael hummed in satisfaction as he slowly bobbed his head, building up to taking Geoff further into his mouth. The older man tightened his grip on the auburn curls, his hips rutting forward into Michael's mouth, the apology he was about to utter dying on his lips as Michael didn't even react to the action: no gagging or even a flinch.

"What... I... fuck, Aiden." Geoff groaned as Michael pulled off slowly.

"No gag reflex." He confirmed, his hand replacing his mouth as he caught his breath, "I can handle anything you throw at me, boss."

Geoff pulled at Michael's hair as the lad took him into his mouth again, moaning and bucking into his mouth cautiously, testing the waters before repeating the action with more confidence as the younger man groaned.

Geoff had never been happier to work at a shitty bar in Alabama.

\- - - 

Michael was bored. And hot. He hated summer, and especially hated it here.

So, with nothing else to do, he decided to wander around the small part of town he hadn't seen yet, which was mainly consisting of small, family owned shops. Nothing too big and fancy, not that anything was in this town anyways.

After walking for a little while, sweat and humidity sticking Michael's curls to his forehead and his tank top to his skin, a small, quaint thrift store caught his eye. Both of the shop windows were filled with items on display, effectively hiding the inside of the shop from view. The building's paint, which was previously what appeared to be some shade of blue, was now a faded shade of grey and chipping off the sign so dilapidated that Michael could barely make out _Thr S re_ in big black letters. What attracted his attention the most, however, was the newer sign proclaiming the fact that the store had air conditioning and free WiFi.

As Michael pushed open the door, a little bell over top of it twinkled merrily. Michael sagged in relief as the cold air from the ventilation system washed over his body.

After standing beneath the source of the cold air for a few minutes, Michael began to wander around the store. The place was organized but in a very chaotic matter, the only light coming from the old fashioned lighting fixtures attached to the walls between shelves containing various combinations of knick knacks, books, figurines, and other antiques. In one corner of the store was a collection of the most grandmother-esque furniture Michael had ever seen, each piece adorned with floral patterns, cute little animals, or _both_. Overall though... Michael liked it.

He turned around at the sound of footsteps, eyes widening at the sight of the attractive bartender from the night before (named Geoff if his memory served correctly) dressed casually in a flannel with the sleeves rolled up, tattoos on display, carrying a box filled to nearly overflowing with books. As he set them down on the counter, which was made from some form of dark wood (complimenting the overall feel of the rest of the store nicely), eyes lifting and showing his recognition of Michael as soon as they landed on the younger man. 

Michael felt his blood run cold, a thousand and one curses running through his mind in an instant. Shit he was so fucked.

"Aiden? Right?" Geoff asked from behind the counter, lifting a stack of books from the box.

"Uh... I... yeah." Michael replied, his shoulders tense and his heart racing in his chest. Seeing Geoff without the drunken haze over his mind did nothing to reduce the amount of attraction he felt towards the older man. If anything, seeing him here seemed to increase it. All Michael wanted to do was sit on one of the pieces of shitty grandma furniture and ask how the hell someone like him had a day job in a place like this, and anything else that may come up. Hell, he'd talk to Geoff about the properties of _sand_ and find it a riveting conversation.

"Didn't expect to see you here." Geoff said with an easy-going grin, sorting the books out into separate piles, "Are you using me for air conditioning?"

"Awh come on. How do you know I'm not here to pick up some grandma furniture and half of a China set?" Michael jokes easily, leaning forward on the counter, grinning as Geoff began to laugh, the sound warming Michael's chest.

"That furniture is of the highest quality." Geoff argued, "Just... don't sit on the one with the ducks. You'll end up with a splinter in your ass."

"Yeah, such high quality furniture. Ass splinters is everything I want in a chair."

"Shut the fuck up, Aiden." Geoff said, but the words had no bite to them, and Michael laughed.

Maybe Alabama wouldn't be that bad, Michael supposed, as he and Geoff talked throughout the afternoon while the older man worked.

Or, at least, this part of Alabama would be pretty great.

The rest of it still fucking sucks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am so sorry this took so long. Just... Wow.
> 
> This chapter is gifted to Miranda because I know she's been the one waiting for this the most (probably) and she is great at listening to me ramble about this au.

Michael never made very close friends, not since he was a kid. It just made it too hard when he'd, inevitably, have to move away. The only friends he had really kept over a long stretch of time were Gavin and Ray. But Gavin was still back in Texas, and Ray lived in New York. The three of them would play together on Xbox Live whenever possible, but lately it had been getting harder and harder to do so, with Gavin going to college and Ray working full time now.

Except for those two, Michael kept his distance from people. Before he graduated, he had managed to keep everyone out except for the annoyingly persistent Brit. But now, Geoff had gotten past Michael's carefully developed defenses in the most subtle, accidental ways possible. It was so slow-going that Michael hadn't even realized the older man was getting through until it was too late.

As the weeks passed by, Michael found it harder to stay away from the little thrift shop nestled in between the pharmacy and a baby clothes store. The conversations he had with Geoff made him feel... mature. Like he was an actual adult, and had some semblance of control over his life.

When Michael would go to the shop, he would help Geoff unpack boxes and boxes of stuff, placing them in different piles to be placed on shelves. Occasionally, one of them would find something of interest and show the other, or Geoff would find books he recognized and give them to Michael to read. The younger man had probably about ten books at this point, and had started each and every one if them. Michael had never been a big reader, but he wanted to do anything he could to see Geoff's crystal fucking clear blue eyes light up when they were able to discuss a book in detail.

But every time Michael would hear Geoff say his fake name, a bit of guilt would bubble up in his chest. He hated how the first friend he'd had in ages didn't even know his real name.

"Hey Aiden, buddy, you ok?" Geoff asked, breaking Michael out of his reverie.

"That's not my name, it's Michael." The younger man admitted after a long pause in which he hesitated, his heart jumping in his chest and lodging itself in his throat at the dumbfounded expression on Geoff's face that slowly transformed into one of thinly veiled anger.

".....What?"

"Ok fuck just... don't hate me ok?" Michael pleads, before nervously explaining the entire fake ID situation, apologizing profusely during different parts of his speech. 

"What else have you been lying to me about, Michael?" Geoff demanded, and God damnit the sound of Geoff saying his name should not be making Michael's heart race so fast.

"Geoff please I can explain."

"Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get in? I could go to fucking jail for giving you alcohol! Not to mention the fact that I let a fucking 18 year old give me a blow job." Geoff demanded, tattooed hands waving through the air as his anger pushed him towards gesturing wildly as he spoke.

"I--"

"You should go."

Michael felt his blood go cold as Geoff turned away from him, an aching sensation growing steadily in his chest. He was losing the first person he had allowed himself to get close to ever since he was a kid. But he didn't try to argue as he turned around and left the shop, the jingle of the bell over the door much too cheerful for the amount of turmoil Michael was feeling in that moment.

\- - -

Geoff's night started with a full bottle of whiskey... And ended with an empty bottle of whiskey. The hours between had Geoff's mind whirling, paranoid thoughts bombarding him as he ran over the afternoon's events with... Michael.

He had finally felt like he'd met someone who he could be friends with, like he had with Ryan and Jack before the two of them left to pursue other things, gotten the fuck out of Alabama while they had the chance. They had tried to convince Geoff to come with, sure, but he didn't think there was anywhere he would really fit in. He didn't want to be reduced to some drunk nomad. So, he stayed and became a drunk hermit instead, working the bar and thrift store, sometimes going down to the local public library and reading up on things that intrigued him. Although he didn't learn shit about science, considering the town's religious air (which is part of the reason why Ryan had been aching to get out for so long).

Finally, Geoff had met someone who he genuinely enjoyed being around, but now... What if it was just all a ploy for free booze and a way for the younger man to pass the time until summer was over and college began? Geoff's stomach turned at the thought each time it crossed his mind, causing him to grab his bottle by the neck and take a large swig of alcohol.

By the time the bottle was empty, Geoff was lying flat on his back on the floor, remembering the times from long ago when he'd have someone to come pick him up off the floor when he'd drunk himself into paralysis like this. But now... he was alone. A man and his thoughts.

Thoughts that completely revolved around Michael.

\- - -

Geoff started the next morning hungover, the sound of his alarm going off making him feel like a jackhammer was slamming against his skull. With a groan, he rolled over in bed, smacking the digital clock and knocking it onto the floor, sighing in relief as the incessant beeping stopped. But that relief was short lived, considering that as soon as he sat up the world seemed to shift 45 degrees to the left.

He took several deep breaths and clenched the fabric of his sweatpants tight in his fists until the world righted itself again. At least he wasn't throwing up, even though his stomach was cramping painfully.

Despite every fibre of his being screaming at him to just go the fuck back to sleep, Geoff forced himself into a shower and clothes, took some Tylenol (skipping breakfast), and trudged his way down to work. The sky was grey, but the weather was still hot and humid, the clouds creating the illusion of being trapped underneath a big, grey, puffy blanket. Geoff was thankful for the cloud cover, since even the daylight absent of the sun made his head pound as he shoved his sunglasses onto his face.

The day passed by slowly. Geoff didn't have to energy to sort through the junk pile he told himself he'd throw out today, and instead forced himself to go through inventory papers and figure out how the hell he was going to pay his rent this month. He looked up as the bell over the door rang, resisting the urge to wince at the sound breaking through the silence of the store. His shoulders went stiff as Michael entered the shop, his grip on his pen tightening, a whole different mess of emotions whirling through his mind: anger, relief, confusion, and the strongest desire, suddenly, to just grab Michael and _kiss him_.

\- - -

Michael's heart jumped in his chest as his eyes met Geoff's, unable to gauge the look in the older man's eyes. Was he still pissed? Would he be even more upset with Michael now that he showed up after Geoff had told him to leave yesterday? Despite his nerves, Michael gave a hesitant smile and held up a bag of barbecue he'd gotten from the restaurant down the street from his house.

There was a long, tense silence, but then Geoff cleared his throat and asked, "Is that from Frank's?"

"Is that what that place is called?" Michael asked, his relief showing despite his best efforts to hide it, "You people need to get new signs."

Geoff laughed and moved his papers as Michael set the bag down, "It gives the place character."

"Yeah and makes me think that I'm going to a place called Fucks to pick up lunch." Michael replied while pulling the food out, "I didn't know what you liked so... I got ribs and tri-tip."

"If it's meat I'll put it in my mouth, Michael." Geoff stated casually as he opened the Styrofoam to-go box filled with ribs slathered in barbecue sauce.

Michael gave a shit-eating grin at that, "So you're an oral kind of guy?" He asked, grabbing a rib.

"And here I was, worried about corrupting you. What the fuck was I thinking?"

Michael laughed and leaned forward on the counter, "But the question is, would you prefer a dick in the ass or in the mouth?"

And that question spurred probably the longest debate the two had had in the past three weeks, ending only when the food was gone and Geoff was on his second beer.

"Hey Geoff, I'm really sorry about... about not telling you the truth. If I had--" Michael cut off as Geoff raised a hand.

"It's fine, Michael, really." Geoff assured him, waiting for the younger man to give a tentative smile before returning one of his own, leaning over to grab a bottle of beer from the mini fridge underneath the counter.

"Hand me one?" Michael asked, and Geoff gave him an odd look, raising an eyebrow. "What? Oh come on Geoff don't tell me you're going to get all moral on me because of this."

"You're too young to drink, Michael."

"Bullshit."

"Michael--"

"When did you start drinking, Geoff?" Michael demanded suddenly, "Because I'm pretty damn sure that you didn't wait until you were 21." He wasn't entirely sure why he was so upset by this. He felt like he was being treated like a kid again, like everyone else in his life treated him (besides Ray and Gavin) and he was fucking tired of people acting like he was a child.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Then hand me a beer."

The two men stared each other down, before Geoff sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, "I was 14." He admitted, avoiding Michael's gaze as the younger man's eyes widened.

"Seriously?"

"My grandma died and I was kind of fucked up over it. I started stealing booze from my mom's liquor cabinet." Geoff stated dully, his eyes locked on the crowded window space to avoid having to look at Michael, but he could still see the turmoil and pain in his eyes. Michael's heart ached for the man across the counter, and he had the sudden urge to do whatever he could to make that look _go away_.

"I... fuck Geoff." Michael said softly, reaching over and placing a hand on Geoff's forearm, the contact sending small little shockwaves up his fingers and arm. "I'm sorry."

Geoff shrugged and pat Michael's hand with one of his own inked-up ones, grabbing a beer and handing it to the lad, "Just don't throw up on my stuff."

Michael slowly smiled and nodded, opening the bottle and taking a swig, "You got it, boss."

\- - -

"You know I could use some extra help around here."

Geoff's voice broke Michael out of the scene he had immersed himself in while reading, having to blink a few times to get back to reality. Say what you will about Geoff, but the man really knew how to pick a fucking _fantastic_ book.

"What?" The younger man asked brilliantly, watching as Geoff's tattooed hands folded some shirts and pants before stacking the garments in a box marked _winter_.

"Well, you're here all the time anyways, and the owner said I should hire some help. Better you than some asshole teenager." Geoff explained.

"You're seriously offering me a job?" Michael asked incredulously, marking his page before setting the book down on a wicker end table that sat between a matching chair and a loveseat decorated by pink and white roses.

Geoff shrugged, lifting the box down from the counter before walking over to Michael, setting it down on the floor. "It pays... Decently. And you get health benefits."

Michael grinned and shook his head, "Don't try and make this sound too amazing there, Geoff." He teased.

"Free beer."

"I'm sold."

\- - -

Geoff was 20 years old when he started working at the thrift store. He had finally moved out of his mom's house, and him, Ryan, and Jack were sharing a small, two bedroom house. Geoff's rent was being covered for the time being, but he couldn't keep mooching off of his friends like this. Not only did he feel guilty, but his pride also took a major hit each time he had to watch Jack write a check for way more than his own share of the rent.

So, Geoff opened the door to the small shop with its pale blue paint and shop windows filled with little knick knacks and wind chimes glittering softly in the September sunlight.

The inside of the shop was painstakingly organized, each shelf housing a specific category of items that were lovingly labelled with hand-written tags.

"Can I help you?"

Geoff turned at the sound of a soft voice sounding from behind him. Standing behind the counter, her small frame almost completely hidden from view, was an old woman who was approximately 80 years old with white hair and bright eyes as she smiled at the lanky, big-eared boy standing awkwardly in a wrinkled shirt and tie in the middle of her clean, neat shop.

"Yeah I saw your ad in the paper." Geoff said nervously, his voice cracking. He felt his face go hot at the sound and felt even more nervous as the woman simply smiled. Why did it have to be a sweet old lady? Old ladies intimidated Geoff to no end. He had a terrible filter, and swore like a sailor. For all he knew that could _kill_ the poor woman. Or, to be less dramatic, make her throw him out and ruin his last opportunity for a job.

"I was starting to wonder if they had printed it all." She said, voice still kind, setting down a book and walking around the counter, "What's your name young man?" She asked, and Geoff gingerly took her outstretched hand, pleasantly surprised at the woman's firm grip.

"Geoff Ramsey, ma'am."

The woman laughed at the cautious way Geoff was handling her hand and pat his shoulder affectionately, "You won't break me, Geoff." She assures him, "I'm Rosa, you can come in tomorrow at ten to start."

"Wait, you mean I got the job?" Geoff asked, shocked.

"Of course. You seem like a nice young man who won't try to rob an old woman blind."

Geoff grinned and hesitated briefly before Rosa just shook her head and hugged him.

\- - -

Geoff loved working at the shop with Rosa. His hours were easy and flexible, and really all he had to do was carry boxes inside and tend to customers whenever someone came in. She insisted, after his first month of working there, on buying him a case of beer to keep in the fridge in the back of the store, only telling him that he was already "cooped up all day with little ol' me" when he tried to protest, and he had responded with pointing out that he loved being "cooped up" all day. She had still insisted.

One of Geoff's favorite things, though, was when Rosa would share stories with him from her life, how she had been a singer for a brief amount of time in a bar down the street from her New York apartment, how when her husband had left her she had taken over their farm on her own and harvested each and every crop with barely any hired help and, when she had grown too old to keep up with the farming, sold the land to a couple who lived a while down from her who were in a bind with producing enough crops to keep themselves going. She only kept her farm house and bought the thrift shop, fixing up the old building and running it just as efficiently as she had the farm.

And that's why Geoff was terrified to tell her his newest... Revelation. It had been just after his 21st birthday when it had hit him. Or, more specifically, on the night of his 21st birthday and he had ended up going home with a guy from the bar, someone from out of town who was just passing through.

When he told her, he was installing a new air conditioning unit. The other one had broken, and the sweltering June heat was terrible, even with all the fans in the store on full blast. It only seemed to blow the hot air around more. His hands and voice shook as he choked out the confession, keeping himself occupied with the machinery to avoid looking at her. He hadn't ever found out her views on gay people, and for all he knew she could be just like every other conservative religious person in this town.

But, she had simply said that it was perfectly ok that Geoff preferred men, and told him that she hoped he would find a nice young man to settle down with.

Geoff had cried, but tried to cover it up by claiming an allergy attack. Rosa pretended to believe him.

\- - -

"You brought flowers?"

Michael felt his stomach drop at Geoff's exclamation, his hand tightening around the stems of the flowers he held in his hand. "Isn't that the polite thing to do?" Michael asked, and Geoff smiled, relieving the tension in Michael's shoulders just slightly.

"She loves flowers, it's great." Geoff assures him, and Michael nodded, sighing softly in relief. Geoff was taking him to meet Rosa, and Michael was nervous as all hell. It was like he was meeting Geoff's family, with the way the older man had talked about the woman who owned the shop and essentially saved Geoff from a dreary existence of drinking himself out of existence.

As they walked up to the small, quaint farm house, painted a soft shade of blue with lavender trim and flowers in the window boxes and running along the pathway to the front door, Michael wiped a sweaty palm on the side of his jeans. Geoff knocked on the door, only to have a young man, appearing to be in his mid to late twenties, open the door.

"Hey Geoff, haven't seen you in a while." He greeted.

"Things have been busy. Nice to see you again, Jon."

"Likewise. Are you going to be here long?"

"Plan on it. Go get some lunch or something."

The man, Jon, smiled and nodded, patting Geoff's shoulder as he walked past to his car.

"That was Rosa's nurse." Geoff explained as they stepped inside, "Nice guy."

They walked down the hall in silence, Geoff knocking on the half opened door before pushing it open and grinning at the, admittedly frail-looking, woman lying on the bed. "Miss me, Rosa?"

After greeting each other, Geoff introduced Michael to Rosa. She thanked him for the flowers, and told them both to sit. Things started off with general small talk, Geoff told her that he had just hired Michael to help him out around the shop, then they moved onto more substantial things than just the weather.

Michael and Rosa hit it off beautifully. The woman had a great sense of humor that Michael loved, and that honestly reminded him a lot of Geoff. Once Jon came back, with bags of groceries to care for Rosa for the week, Michael offered to go help, wanting to give Geoff and Rosa time to catch up without him around.

Once the younger man was out of hearing, Rosa sat up more and looked over at Geoff, "He's a nice boy."

Geoff nodded in agreement and smiled, "Pretty interesting kid. You wouldn't believe how we met." He said.

"I hope he makes you happy."

Geoff stared at her for a moment then shook his head, "No. We're not... It's not like that." He said quickly, not sure who he was trying to convince more, her or himself, when he said, "We're just friends. No feelings or anything like that."

"Geoff, have you ever been in love?" Rosa asked, and Geoff chewed on his bottom lip before shaking his head. "Well I have, many times. And I don't know about you, but the way that boy looks at you..."

Even if Geoff had known what to say to that, the conversation was cut short as Jon entered the room with Michael trailing along after him, carrying a tray with food for Rosa on it.

\- - -

"Hey boss, I got us some breakfast." Michael called as he entered through the back entrance of the shop, kicking the door shut behind him and frowning as there was no reply. "Geoff?" He followed the sound of rustling coming from the front of the store, rounding the corner as the sound of breaking glass and a rather creative curse word was uttered by Geoff, who had the remnants of a bottle of some sort of alcohol at his feet.

Michael was taken aback by how shitty Geoff looked. His hair was a mess, his eyes were red and puffy and he looked like he had gotten absolutely no sleep the night before judging by the dark circles under his already tired-looking eyes. "Jesus Geoff, you look like shit." Michael commented, setting the bag of warm food down on the counter and grabbing the broom, grasping Geoff's shoulders and moving him away from the glass. The older man moved without protest, instead slumping against the counter as Michael began sweeping up the shards. After the mess was cleaned up, Michael grabbed Geoff and sat him down on one of the granny couches, handing him a bottle of water.

"Drink." He told him, and Geoff did without protest. They sat in silence for a long time, never mind the fact that the shop was supposed to be open by this time.

"Rosa died." Geoff whispered, voice gruff and shaking. Michael's eyes widened and he exhaled slowly before sitting next to Geoff.

"I... Fuck, Geoff, I'm so sorry." He said softly, placing a hand on Geoff's knee. "How did it happen?"

"It was peaceful. In her sleep." Geoff replied, closing his eyes and leaning against the younger man beside him, "I still can't believe she's gone."

Michael frowned and wrapped an arm around Geoff's shoulders, "I'm taking you home."

"I can't not open the store, Michael." Geoff pointed out, sounding more like himself in the protest.

"Someone close to you just passed away, Geoff. I'm pretty sure no one will mind if you don't open for one day." Michael replied firmly, tugging Geoff to his feet, "You need food and sleep."

Geoff sighed wearily and scrubbed at his face with his hands, "Ok. Ok, fine, fuck."

\- - -

Once Michael had forced Geoff to get showered, shaved, and fed, the two men sat in silence on the couch. Michael liked Geoff's apartment. It was small, sure, but felt like a home. The white walls were covered in pictures and paintings, there were a few small bookshelves set up here and there. The kitchen was relatively well stocked, although there was an abundance of alcohol, and Michael had a pretty strong feeling that Geoff liked to cook judging by the amounts of cookbooks he had seen lying around and the plethora of different pots and pans the man owned.

Michael was broken out of his examination of the bookshelf closest to the couch when Geoff suddenly jumped up from his seat, disappearing from sight before returning with a stack of what looked like... Photo albums.

Geoff sat back down and flipped one open, "They want me to... To choose the picture for her obituary." Geoff explained at Michaels confused look, and sure enough the album was filled with pictures of Abel, some clearly from when she was young, the images printed in grainy black and white, some relatively newer, ranging through ages from teenage years all the way to what was probably only a couple months previous.

"What's this one?" Michael asked, slipping the photo out of its plastic window and holding it up, "Holy shit, Geoff, is that you?" He asked incredulously, beginning to laugh, "Dude I can't believe your fucking _ears_! Dumbo would be jealous of them!"

"Shut up, asshole. I grew into them." Geoff replied, a smile forming on his lips as he snatched the picture back, a fond look in his eyes as he gazed down at the image, "This was my first day working there." He explains, pointing at the image. At closer examination, Michael could see how nice the shop used to be. He wondered, vaguely, why it had fallen into disrepair, but didn't ask.

"Are you hungry?" Geoff asked suddenly after a while of looking through the photo albums, closing the book and getting to his feet.

"I could eat, yeah." Michael admitted, shrugging. Even though he hadn't eaten all day and he was starving, he didn't want to burden Geoff at a time like this.

"Alright. I'll make us dinner." Geoff said, sounding distracted. Michael bit his lip but let Geoff wander into the kitchen, hooking his phone up to a speaker system, soft music coming from the electronic device as Geoff moved around the kitchen with a practiced determination with a concentrated look on his face, pulling items from the fridge, cabinets, freezer: chicken, bourbon (that Geoff punctuated with a comment about how he used most of the booze for cooking, which Michael called bullshit on), and even... powdered Jello?

Geoff didn't even need a recipe as he moved around the kitchen with ease, preheating the oven, seasoning the chicken, preparing the sauce. Michael watched with an apt sort of amazement, commenting about how he could barely make macaroni and cheese, which made Geoff laugh as he tasted the sauce before nodding in approval.

The two sat down to eat once the food was prepared, Geoff setting two plates down as well as pouring two glasses of wine.

"Trying to get me drunk?" Michael teased and Geoff grinned.

"Being drunk alone is boring." Geoff replied, sitting down at the table.

The food Geoff had made was amazing. Michael practically moaned at the taste, the perfectly balanced flavors. The two men had easy conversation throughout the meal, glass after glass of wine getting poured and drank. Their laughter was soft yet frequent, and Michael felt so... Content here. He felt that he could do this every night, eating dinner with Geoff and talking well after the food was finished.

Michael left Geoff's apartment with a slight buzz and a smile on his face, Geoff thanking him for the company as he left. As Michael walked home, running over the night's events in his head, he became vaguely aware of the warmth in his chest that wasn't due to the alcohol and the butterflies in his stomach as he remembers the way Geoff had looked at him over dinner.

_Oh shit._

\- - -

Geoff staggered slightly as he stepped up onto the curb, cursing under his breath as the jolt caused his head to spin even more than it already was.

Rosa's funeral had been a fucking disaster. Geoff had already been emotionally compromised, but then the people who were attending just couldn't leave him the fuck alone about liking men. After being grilled at the funeral of the one person who could tell everything to about his sexual orientation, and even given a pamphlet for a "Pray the Gay away" seminar ( _"It's never too late to come back to Christ."_ the old bat had told him). So, on his way back to the shop, he had stopped by the liquor store.

And now he was drunk out of his mind. But not drunk enough, however, to miss how... Different the shop looked. The sign was repainted in Rosa's looping, swirled cursive, as were the walls in the same beautiful shade of blue as it was years ago. The once cluttered and dirty windows were crystal clear and stacked with books with wind chimes and glass figurines hung from the ceiling. 

And in front of the door was Michael, clothes and skin covered in paint, a brush in his hand and a meek smile on his face, "Surprise?" He said hesitantly, unable to read the expression on Geoff's face, "I've been working on it all day..." He adds sheepishly, running a hand back through his curls, blue paint smearing onto his hair.

A million and one emotions were causing chaos inside Geoff's chest as his mind struggled to put together what he was seeing. Michael had redone the shop, made it look exactly like Rosa would have wanted, would have loved. Geoff choked out something that sounded like the younger man's name, stumbling forward.

His hands reached out and cupped Michael's cheeks, the younger man looking confused for the brief moment before Geoff was pulling him into a kiss.


End file.
